


You Came to Me (In All Kinds of Weather)

by summerroad7



Category: Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerroad7/pseuds/summerroad7
Summary: How to cure bad water? Send it back to the sea.How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47
Collections: Milex Big Bang 2019





	You Came to Me (In All Kinds of Weather)

_Help me!_

_I know I’m not worth it,_

_but your generosity is so vast! *_

You Came to Me (In All Kinds of Weather)

_Alex has to ask._

This rarely happens. Usually it’s Miles who can never shut his mouth: _What do you think, Al? What’s that supposed to mean? Are you sure it’s alright? Do you want to-_

Alex turns his head back up and blinks slowly at the tentative smile Miles is now giving him. He seems a bit ambivalent, standing in Alex’s living room. Dressed in a velvet star-print shirt, a leather duffle bag over his left shoulder, Miles looks more like a picture Alex has randomly clipped out of an old magazine, rather than someone who walks into Alex's house in real life, with neither a text message nor a few knocks on the door to announce his visit.

“So.” Says Miles, toes tapping on the floor, slow and awkwardly. “Good to know you’re still breathing.”

The warmth in his voice pours over Alex like a cup of melted butter. He flinches violently from where he sits, causing the sofa to groan painfully. Miles simply ignores that and throws the bag on the floor (why is he carrying so much stuff? Is he going to Vegas for the weekend or something?). He walks straight into the kitchen, hardly noticing the drilling gaze Alex stabs into his back.

5 minutes later Miles comes back, a cuppa in one hand, a sad, wrinkled orange in the other.

“Here, hold it for me?” Miles asks softly and waits, until he has the faith that Alex won't be ruining the carpet with a hot beverage. He doesn’t say something like “ _oh please Alex, drink this, it’s good for you”_ , but starts to peel the orange with his stupidly beautiful hands. “You can steal me drink. Promise I won't punch you in the face for that.”

Alex so gladly takes a sip - black tea with two sugar, no milk.

He does have a bad habit of stealing Miles’ drinks, although to be fair that’s barely his fault - Miles tends to _encourage_ him. Right now he is struggling with that orange, because it is pathetically wrinkled. The tips of his fingers are tinted when Miles passes him a slice. Alex wants to refuse, but Miles has already looked back down while holding the piece of fruit up. He starts to hum a tune to himself. 

Alex's throat suddenly feels very dry, so he takes the orange.

 _When’s the last time they talked to each other?_ He can’t even tell why Miles comes to him, with his luggage, his caring smile and his terrifying ability to calm Alex down. Miles studies him carefully while Alex chews the innocent orange. _It tastes like nothing._

Miles frowns after taking a bite himself. “Jesus,” He complains, as if that matters. “I hate your fridge.”

Before Alex even thinks about looking for an answer, Miles is back on his feet again. “Be right back.” He gestures at the empty fridge, as if Alex wants to know. “Don’t worry, I’ll take your eco-bags.”

When the room returns to be quiet, Alex notices Miles’ duffle bag is still on his floor.

+

It’s not like he’s sad, anxious or in pain.

Nothing like that. Some days, the air just becomes heavy and sticky and too dense for him to move. Alex hasn’t gone completely mad – he knows he’s supposed to text people and cancel recording plans. He needs to make a few phone calls and informs _someone_. He has to go see a therapist, or at least pretends that may help. But in reality, he does none of those. Alex turns off his phone and plans to lock himself in until the air becomes light again. He checks: Matt is already in LA. Nick and Jamie are waiting in Sheffield as Alex has promised to visit before they all fly to the other side of Earth. _Nobody would bother him until then-_

However, there’s Miles, who is currently making enormous amount of noises in his house by trying to make chicken soup for dinner. Alex doesn’t understand why they can’t just order Chinese takeout. _He isn’t hungry._

Miles is still singing under his breath. He seems happy – Alex tries to remember the look Miles gave him a few months ago, when they were arguing backstage in Greece. Miles stared at him, eyes wide with angry tears. _He seemed shocked, hurt and heartbroken._ Alex hasn’t been spared a chance to apologize yet, but now Miles is here and somehow not interested in breaking Alex’s nose. _He is chopping onions while sniffing like a sick puppy, for God’s sake._

“Hey, don’t eat all me tomatoes.” Miles grumbles when he hears Alex approaching. Alex had no intention to eat any, but it feels like he should once Miles has particularly warned him not to - Miles cuts those vine tomatoes into the size of packaged apple slices. Alex suspects that Miles is inviting him to be a food thief, but he has no proof.

“Don’t take up the space if you’re not going to help me.” Miles brandishes the spoon in the air and points at the sofa Alex was napping on. His face is red and puffy because of the onions, which are now sizzling meekly in the pan. There’s a drop of sauce threatening to fall - Miles quickly stops the disaster by shoving the spoon into his mouth. He murmurs around it, tongue disappearing under the metal. Alex knows he shouldn't be staring but.

Miles snorts at the pan. “Go away, Al.”

That sounds like a good idea. Alex returns to curling up on the couch, fighting with the invisible weight on his chest until Miles yells at him, asking for his help. “Pass me the oven gloves, please?” Miles casts a quick glance over his shoulder, nose wrinkled with a proud smile. “You’re gonna love this soup.”

Alex wants to remind Miles that _he’s not hungry._ He wonders if that will trigger another wounded look on the younger man’s face, who has just volunteered to be his chef and, to be bluntly honest, his babysitter.

Miles removes the pot and places it on a table mat, one Alex has no idea he owns. “We can have it later. No rush.” He doesn’t seem to be disheartened by Alex’s lack of enthusiasm. All Miles does is removing the apron which makes him look hilariously like Alex’s house elf, or housewife. Alex can’t decide which option is worse. “… gotta take a shower.”

“Sure.” He says, feeling his throat reluctantly opens and vibrates in dull pain. He hasn’t spoken any word in a while. Miles startles, clearly not expecting a verbal reply from him. His smile grows even bigger, almost too bright to look at. Alex breathes in, this time actually feeling the oxygen reaching his lungs. It makes him dizzy with relief.

He only hesitates a few seconds before adding, “I’ll set up the table.”

+

Miles is back the next day, wearing something more casual, white polo and loosely fitted jeans, but equally charming. He is whistling _Whatever_ by Oasis when he unlocks the front door. Alex hears him way before Miles walks to the other side of the tea table. He stays exactly where he was when Miles left last night: On the sofa, wrapped in a softer, clean blanket Miles dragged out of his closet. Miles even washed the dishes and did his laundry: Alex only realized that after he was gone, because the room smelled slightly like detergent.

“You came back.” Alex pointed out.

“I brought you flowers.” Miles answers solemnly, except that he doesn’t have anything but a can of lemonade with him. The next second Miles bursts out laughing, hands resting on his knees, forehead all puckered in delight. Alex can count his lower molars like this.

Miles helps himself to a cup of tea again, something milder today. He possibly knows the kitchen better than Alex does. Alex drinks half of that ginger and cinnamon tea, smiling when Miles sits back on the floor and starts to play with his phone.

The smile doesn’t survive long on his face, though. “Why?”

“You ignore me messages.” Miles doesn’t even bother to lift his head up. He shrugs with a low chuckle. “I don’t live very far from ya.”

As if that somehow makes it more acceptable, Alex mutters, “I haven’t replied to nothing.”

“I know.” Miles smiles a bit more, hugging the almost empty cup against his chest. He shakes his head stubbornly. “I like your tea selection better.”

The subtle change in his tone isn’t as shocking to Alex as last time: Miles says each word slowly, in all seriousness. Alex has seen this before. Knowing where they are heading, a strange nervousness starts to grow in his stomach. Alex wants Miles gone before it blows up into something callous and _disappointing_. Normally, Alex is an expert in driving people away even when he means not to. _He does it all the time, innit?_ How strange that Miles is still here after everything, still looking _somewhat hopeful._

Alex can’t think of a painless way for Miles to _stop hoping_. He simply can’t think. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

“I know.” Miles repeats, putting down his phone. Reluctantly, he spares a bit more attention to their conversation. The “cautiously eyeing” thing he just did, and the meaningful silence afterwards could have made Alex cringe, if coming from anyone else. But it's Miles and Miles licks his bottom lip gingerly, eyes honest and challenging. “Call me a selfish bastard, whatever. I want to make meself feel better, if you don’t mind.”

Better means _useful. Needed_. They had this argument before. Right now, Alex is slow, but he is not stupid. “Miles.” He sighs, too tired to get any more involved.

Miles starts to look a bit guilty as well. “I can go if you want, but I’m starving.” He comprises in a tenderer voice, pleading. “Can I at least borrow your kitchen?”

 _Liar._ Miles smells like coffee and bakery. He is clearly here to be a cheap labour and makes Alex lunch. Alex only lets him because this is the only way for Miles to disappear faster. He makes ham sandwiches, figuring that Alex won’t get up for food anytime soon. He tells Alex about the new studio by the river which will be opening in October, about some restaurant he found last week that makes the most delicious lamb stew. Miles switches back to his normal voice, to the best _friend_ Alex can ask for.

When Miles leaves the house, the air suddenly becomes so thick that it’s hard for him to sit straight. Alex has to lie down.

+

“You have a TV at home.” Says Alex flatly on the fifth day. He doesn’t want to be alone, but the company is getting too much for him to enjoy without feeling like a heartless, ungrateful jerk.

Miles doesn’t seem to hear him, busy turning the volume down. He then gets up to turn off the ceiling light as the last step. “Emmm…The Two Towers?”

“You’d cry through the whole thing. I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Then don’t fall asleep, you fucker.” Miles ruffles his hair with a warm, gentle hand. It’s only there for a short second, but the awful feeling of _being worthless_ in Alex’s chest eases and slowly fades away.

The movie night stretches in comfortable silence. Miles’ head rests against the edge of the sofa, only a few inches from Alex's kneecap. He is wrapped in one of Alex’s old T-shirt (Miles even has his own slippers in that huge duffle bag he brought. Yet weirdly, he forgets about pyjamas). Somehow, he looks more _familiar_ in Alex’s clothes. _Closer._ The dancing lights illuminating out from the TV screen are cosy and weightless, making the past few months seem almost imaginary. It’s hard to say no to a company like this.

When Alex wakes up, a new day is already here. There’re biscuits on his kitchen table. Smell of coffee fills the living room. No Miles. Alex lifts his sleepy legs to transport himself into the shower. Later that day, he manages to have two biscuits for breakfast.

+

Friday is one of the better days. Alex wakes up craving for a plain donut. He charges his phone and leaves it on the desk before heading out for the closest café. When he comes back, Miles appears again.

He is playing random chords on the piano. Alex wants to tell Miles that he really, really needn’t be here anymore. But Miles, his oblivious fool of a _friend_ , jumps up and pulls Alex into a brief hug before Alex can expel him. He seems happy ( _proud_ ) for Alex’s trip to a café that is virtually less than 10 minutes away from his house.

“We can order pizza for lunch.” Miles suggests, knocking their shoulders together and carefully leads Alex away from the sofa, _his personal cell_. “You had a missed call from Matt.”

“I’ll call him back later.” Alex lies smoothly. Miles doesn’t bother to ask when that would be. He makes another loud sound on the piano encouragingly and shifts slightly to the side, so Alex eases down on the stool next to him.

They end up sharing a pizza in Alex’s favourite Italian restaurant. Miles doesn’t come back home with him afterwards. He is _too good_ at guessing when Alex wants to be alone.

+

They have had this conversation before, way before Miles screamed at him, called him a stupid mother fucker and stormed out of his life for good. Those uninformed visits aren’t new: When the air turned unbearably heavy, Miles would always come to him. In the past Alex had checked again and again why Miles was here - Alex was literally the worst company anyone could find on those days: He didn’t pick up his phone. He refused to leave the house. He snapped for no reason and then sat there for hours like a scarecrow.

Alex wasn’t dumb. He could tell Miles didn’t come here to drench himself in Alex's sunken spirit.

When Alex eventually mentioned it, Miles threw his head back and laughed. “You can’t possibly think that I’m your mate just because you can be hilarious sometimes.” Alex had a feeling that Miles was laughing _with_ him, rather than _at_ him _._ “Al, I’m here because you’re _YOU_. Not because I fancy a stand-up comedy.”

“But you make me smile,” Alex muttered. He didn’t trust his voice to not quiver, not when Miles was looking at him like _that_. “You always do, yet I can’t even - I see how you look at this place. How - how you look at me. You don’t have to be here, you know.”

Miles gave him a weird, intense glance before firmly shaking his head. The gaze nearly burnt him, and much, much later, Alex learnt that it was because _he was loved_. Miles raised his voice in haste. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Al, listen, I’m not annoyed at you or anything because you’re not feeling like yourself. I just – I worry about you.”

 _Of course. Nowadays everyone was worried about him._ Alex frowned at that announcement. His stomach sunk. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you’d be alright, Al. But I want to be here. You can keep doing your thing, getting off the radar until you think you can function again. I don’t mind.” Miles explained to him. He wasn’t making any sense, but somehow manged to make it sound like common practice. “You’re not bothering me, man. It's like...you’re sort of doing me a favour. I’d rather be here and make sure you eat your carrot. You know what I mean?”

Alex nodded at first, but then shook his head negatively. They were supposed to meet at the pub last night. Alex didn’t turn up, didn’t bother to send a text, and now Miles was here in his bedroom, smiling at him, not angry to the slightest.

“I’m glad you’re here. Right now.” Alex searched for the right words. Miles confused him sometimes. “But I - It doesn’t always work. Sometimes it gets...and I don't...”

“If you need to time to yourself, let me know. I’ll go and no feelings hurt. Just don’t lie to me, okay? I really wanna be around, in case you can’t tell. Besides, you’ve got nice teacups.”

Miles smiled and the stiff air was pushed away from Alex just a tiny little bit. He said, “Consider it a favour for us both.” And at that time Alex thought Miles was joking.

_For fuck sake. How could Alex possibly know Miles was never joking._

+

By Saturday, Alex has managed to reconnect with the real world.

Miles senses it the second he steps inside because Alex is on his phone, this time actually sliding his fingers for a purpose instead of staring at the screen aimlessly. “Welcome back.” Miles greets him with a knowing smirk. His cologne smells too nice to be effortless. Alex almost feels bad about it.

At least he doesn’t bring Alex flowers for real.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, Miles. If this is because of-” He gestures vaguely between them, then points the finger at himself. The past weeks haven’t anything to do with their argument. It just happens. It happens and the least thing Alex wants is for Miles to stick around because he feels obligated to. “Anyway, I’m fine now.”

Miles glares at him, though the annoyance in his gaze dies down very soon. “I’m still your friend, in case that you forget.” He grumbles with a sulky pout. “I care about you.”

In that case, it’s even _worse_. Alex is taken aback by Miles’ honesty. He loses focus for a second, recoiling a little out of instinct. “I specifically asked you not to.”

“Yeah, I remember that too.” Miles is somehow amused by those harsh words. He gives a lame attempt for a joke. “But it doesn’t work that way, alright? Just because you broke up with me-”

“I didn’t,” Alex cuts him off, feeling terrified and somehow guilty. He has to stop and take a deep breath, for that simple sentence has all of a sudden drained his energy. Alex recollects himself. “It’s not… we weren’t…nothing like that.”

Miles’ breath catches in his throat. The other man closes his eyes and mimics what Alex just did, seeking peace in a few deep intakes of air. “Whatever you say, Al.”

When Alex turns to look at him again, Miles seems younger, less certain. His arms move awkwardly around and finally settle with hugging himself. Miles holds onto his own elbows. “I’m not here to fight ya.”

“Are we fighting?”

“No! I mean…no.”

Alex has seen Miles shouting and crying a handful of times. But the damage of those altogether won’t even come close to this half-smile Miles forced at him. It makes Alex’s chest go extremely puffy first, then crushes it in tighter and tighter until the inside of him all crumples up like a piece of paper. He can’t breathe.

It is kind of a rude awakening - After weeks of numbness, suddenly Alex _feels,_ right in this moment with Miles in his living room, playing this _I-don’t-want-anything-from-you-let’s-still-be-friends_ bullshits. Months after Miles confessed with dismay that he loved Alex more than a friend. Months after that short, incredulous silence and a perplexed murmur of rejection Alex gave him.

He feels an inscrutable stab of pain. 

+

Miles comes back again for his luggage. While he’s here, he asks if Alex wants to go for a drink next week with a few friends from his side.

He doesn’t ask for more and that’s - that’s not like Miles at all. Alex knows how he is: Miles wants either _everything,_ or nothing at all. “Miles, you know I can’t give you the answer you want just because-” _Because_ they haven’t spoken to each other for months. Then he had a mental breakdown and all of a sudden Miles was here to prove that Alex couldn’t survive without him. Alex was vulnerable and defenceless and of course, he wanted Miles to be close. He never wants Miles to stay away. This time Miles chose to: He’s the one who accused Alex of being a coward, but he’s also the one who slumped the door first. _You don’t get to play the forgiving best friend right now._

Alex forces out a weak protest. “You should go.”

Miles takes one step back, away from him. The sound of his breathing becomes hurried and wet as he watches Alex picking up the duffle bag from under the settee. Alex doesn’t understand why he wants to be cruel, doesn’t even know _he can._ He is shaking with the effort to not yell at Miles: _Why do you have to be here to remind me that I only and always disappoints people?_

“Okay.” Miles agrees, lips tightly sealed. His eyes are glassy and wide with broken pieces of _hope_. 

“Thank you.” Alex tells him. It must be the tone he uses, or the dreadful look in his eyes. Miles’ mouth falls open and he stops looking so crestfallen _and hurt_. Their fingers brush together when Alex hands the bag over. He flinches just as Miles grabs both his hands, letting the bag slump heavily on the floor.

Miles stutters in desperate. “I don’t- I’m not asking for anything, Al. I’m not here to – I just want you to feel better. Please, you have to believe me.” The taller man sobs in a faint voice, then barely controls himself. “I love you, Al.”

“How can you still say that?”

Alex shakes his head violently, but Miles is not finished. He never learns how to shut up properly. “I don’t love you because I think you’d be mine, Al. I love you because you’re _YOU_. I don't want you to ever think otherwise - Fuck! I should've never told you in the first place. I’m so sorry.”

And Alex knows a lie when he hears it. He retorts. “You’re not sorry.”

“I’m - you’re right. I’m not sorry, you bloody prick.” Miles laughs in tears. _He doesn’t even get mad again. Jesus._ It’s like he fetches Alex heart out of his chest and starts to tear it into shreds. “I’d say it again, because I wanted to. It’s driving me crazy, Al.”

“But you still love me.” Alex wants to wipe his face clean, but Miles is holding both of his hands.

“I asked for an answer and you gave it to me, didn’t you? I’m sorry for how I reacted.” Miles whispers genuinely. He lets go. More tears well up as he takes a step back. “I don’t wanna lose you, Al. If you ever need me, I’m here for you.”

Weirdly, Alex doesn’t know why he feels so, so horrible. _Isn’t this what he’s always wanted – a never-ending ride on the friendship train instead of something that could easily end?_ Eventually Alex finds his voice again. “Thanks, Miles.”

He’s still puzzled when the door shuts.

+

Alex really has to ask.

“What ya saying?” Miles shouts at him through the loud music and dazzling lights. Here comes the next week and the first time in months that they sit side by side, drinking at somewhere less private. Alex blames his curiosity on the few shots of whiskey he has just swallowed – _How did he get here?_ Under the cover of darkness and the howling rush of voices, Alex moves his stool closer to Miles so that he doesn’t have to yell. Miles leans towards him naturally, as if it’s one of his built-in functions to be close to Alex when needed.

“After you left that day, I called you...to apologize.” Alex knows separation and loss so well that he can trace them without effort in his memories. It’s hard to believe that Miles is really here: For a while Alex was sure that he had screwed up way past the chance of – _of anything_. Miles had never ignored his calls before. “I stopped because I didn’t know how long I should wait to try again.”

Miles answers with a nod. He’s drunk and sarcastic and honest. “How thoughtful, love.”

Alex chases after him. “You were - you are upset still.” Miles doesn’t argue, so he continues. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Alex?” He can almost feel Miles’ lips on his earlobe. “Tell me more about it.”

“I’m sorry that I-” He stumbled. Alex was so sure that he’s got something to apologize for, but every single one felt wrong - _sorry that I didn’t feel the same way about you; sorry that you loved me?_ They won’t sound right. They ain’t even true.

“Just so you know, I’ll smash your face if you say _OHHH SORRY MATE I DON'T FANCY YOU_.” Miles pulls back to look at him. It must be the hesitated silence from Alex that’s ignited him. Miles sinks into his chair and sneers. “It really blows me mind sometimes, how you just - you know what, hell yes, I was so pissed off at you. I am fucking annoyed even now because-”

“Because,” Miles chokes lightly and points a finger at him. Alex wishes neither of them was drunk then (and now). “Because it’s not a bloody phase and I’m not fucking confused. Because it’s been years and I’ve wanted you for God knows how long but you! Alex! You had to sound more homophobic than me old man when you could’ve just said _NO._ ”

 _Oh fuck._ Alex can’t really recall his own words, but he surely didn’t mean it like that.

“I figured that myself.” Miles reads his mind. He shrugs tiredly at a petrified Alex and then gets up.

Before leaving, Miles glances at him with something ironically like sympathy in his eye. “It’s just...it would be easier for me if you’d said no.”

+

For a week Miles leaves him alone.

For a week there has been a strange longing trapped inside him. Alex pokes at it and it kicks back. It just won’t go away. Alex can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.

He throws away the book he has been pretending to read in the past hour and picks up his phone instead. Alex stares at the screen and thinks, really thinks. _“You don’t understand.”_ He remembered feeling his chest getting tighter and tighter as Miles’ face turned paler and paler. _“This, whatever it is - it will go away.”_ He couldn’t afford changing the only constant in his life for a variable, not when the world’s so hard to grasp and he needed Miles to be close, _here and always_. Alex never even thought about it in any other way – That’s the case of Miles Kane they’re looking at. Miles is Miles to him, and Alex has always lacked a word or three to describe what Miles is to him.

He can’t just answer with a simple, inaccurate “ _NO”_ , for that would be a lie at any time.

Alex types in: _Sorry._

He then deletes it and writes: _Friday 6 pm. Dinner?_

Two minutes later it changes to be: _Some days I have no feelings for nothing. I’m sorry. You deserve someone who loves you always._

In the end, Alex sends a quote with a belated apology: _I used to refuse things at the table. Now I shout for more wine. * I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry._

+

Miles didn’t reply, but he shows up at Alex’s door one hour after Alex has buried himself with pillows and blankets and fully prepared to mourn. “I need a drink.” Miles takes a deep breath, throwing his jacket on the floor. “Tea of coffee?”

“Brandy’s on the second shelf.” Alex replies, only half joking. Miles rolls his eyes warningly at him and chooses tea for them both. For a while they chat safely about unimportant plans for next month and pathetic stories of this week. Alex then asks him about dinner.

“I got your message…what does it mean?” The final question comes eventually, as Miles kneels beside the tea table, hand hovering over the now cold, empty pot. Miles looks away before coming back to search for Alex’s answer. The longing becomes poignant and almost touchable - Alex breathes and that strange sense of craving digs at his ribs, pressuring his very confused heart.

He panics. “Don’t come near me.”

Miles wraps his fingers around the handle slightly more tightly than needed, then lifts the pot up angrily.

“I’m not planning on doing that.” His face falls. “More tea?”

The tremor in his voice shakes Alex with it. He is trembling all over. “Why do you come back, Miles? You’re leaving. You did - you went away -”

“Calm down, Al. I’m not going anywhere.” Now Miles sounds harsher, borderline defensive. He throws the ceramic pot brutally into the sink and winces at the noise it makes. Alex watches him closely as Miles retreats back into the living room and back into Alex’s miserable life. “I needed some me time back then, okay? I do have some self-respect left, believe it or not. Besides, I already said that I’m sorry, remember?”

Alex had fallen in and out of love before. Those experiences never come nearly as hard as reasoning with Miles right here right now. “You don't need to say that.”

“Well, I blocked your number for three days so yes, sorry for losing me mind and didn’t call your sorry ass back earlier! Please! I don’t understand why you keep asking me the same question over and over. Oh come on, what do you want me to say, Alex? That I come for you because of the noble kindness of human nature? Damn it! I love you, Alex. I love you and I don’t wanna go, okay? Sorry about that!” Miles makes the “sorry” sound more like a “fuck you”. Alex figures he’s basically asked for it, so he keeps quiet.

Miles waves his arms in hopeless rage and shouts like he can't get his voice across the room without screaming.

“I’m trying, Al! I am, and sorry if I’m not doing a brilliant job of pretending I don’t think of you all the fucking time because I do! I do and you’re so not helping me with - with everything. What else? Oh, and I love you. I can’t just stop. There’s no switch on me that can undo it, alright? You have to - I need to -” Miles deflates like a damaged balloon after the sudden outburst. He blinks at his own hands in the air and frowns almost in surprise. He seems so lost. “I should go.”

“Miles.” Alex only realizes he's made that sound when Miles stops to look at him. He has just placed the key for Alex’s front door on the porch cabinet. Alex begs, hardly noticing he's doing so. “Please. Keep it.”

“That’s very generous of you.” It’s a quiet recognition rather than an accusation that Miles whispers, while at the same time Alex blurs out, "The answer can’t be NO."

Miles gasps. There’re tears in his eyes again. “I don’t understand.”

Alex shoots up. He grabs the back of sofa for support; even giving a poor explanation has cost all his strength. “The answer can’t be NO because I love you, too. I love you with a love I once thought I’ve already lost, but that’s not enough, Miles. Sometimes I just can’t bring myself to care. Some days I’m not at where you are … and I know you. You’d prefer someone who loves you all the time. There’s no way that you’d settle for less.”

“You,” Miles sniffles quietly, rearranging his limbs so that he can lean against the door. Miles looks like he’s about to fall over. “You must be fucking kidding me.”

“But I always need you. On certain days I needed you to be here more than I needed air.” Alex confirms. _Does he really have to repeat himself?_ “Please. Don’t let me drive you away.”

“God, you really are serious.” Miles groans. “Don’t you think it says something that I’m still here after you specifically asked me to wake up from me transient gay illusion?” Miles lifts himself up from the door and suddenly he is walking towards the opposite direction. Towards Alex again. “And babe, you can’t drive.”

Alex closes his eyes. _Be patient._ He reminds himself. _Miles is always hard to argue with._ “We break up and you’d never come back.”

“You just broke up with me and here I am, so scratch that. For how long I’ve known you, Alex? You can’t really believe the bullshits you just threw at me, right?” Miles halts in front of him. They are so close that it feels familiar and right and good. _It feels really, really good._ “Just say you love me.”

“I love you whenever I can.” Alex shifts his gaze further away. “You’re my best friend.”

Miles grabs his elbows and takes his chance to run away. “Is that all?”

“You’re my hero, Miles. The constant of my equation. You are-” At some point Alex has to accept that he can’t stare at his slippers for an eternity. He looks up and Miles is there, waiting. He somehow possesses all the patience in the world when it comes to waiting for Alex. Therefore Alex can’t bring himself to lie. “I love you.”

“You better.” Miles whispers, lowering his head slightly so that every word he says is warm to the touch. “You can love me only when you feel up to it. As long as it’s me you’re thinking of, Al, I’ll take it as it is. And please, I love you, Alex and I swear I'll love your more on those days you don't.”

Miles is a terrible liar, so Alex knows for sure that he isn't just using big words. Out of all the good things he’s been gifted, the way Miles looks at him right now scares Alex the most. Somehow, tenderly it belittles him, making Alex perplexed, curious, disarmed. He can’t even think of another word, let alone any other person. Alex starts, “Miles-”

Miles shushes him with, “I’m gonna kiss you now.” And there Alex is trying to recall if Miles has, for real, won every single debate ever since they met.

The answer is _YES._

+END+

**Author's Note:**

> * The quotes in the opening of the story and in Alex's text message are both Rumi's poems. Also the summary as well! I’m so in love with his work recently.
> 
> Do you know  
> what you are to me? During the day,  
> you're my energy for working. At night,  
> you're my deepest sleep.  
> But could we be together  
> outside of time as well as inside?  
> Physically, we meet only at breakfast.  
> Your absence during the rest of the day  
> enters all my cravings!  
> I drink  
> five hundred times too much.  
> I eat  
> like a bulimic trying to die.  
> Help me!  
> I know I'm not worth it,  
> but your generosity is so vast!
> 
> \- THE LONG STRING 
> 
> This is probably the most personal happy ending I've ever written. Originally I was writing this to be a sad story, but then a miracle occurred to me and changed my mind. I guess it's truly possible to be loved and to love someone in our darkest days. Love is not a cure, but it can make wounds heal faster. 
> 
> I'm the worst and I didn't manage to finish the fic I was supposed to write for the Milex Big Bang :/ so instead I hope you enjoy this one. As always, thank you so much for reading!


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